Without A Doubt
by TehOpheliac
Summary: Dean/Castiel preslash — Every time there's a flash of lightning, Dean gets a glimpse of Castiel's wings.


**Title:** Without A Doubt  
**Author:** TehOpheliac  
**Rating:** PG-13 (for swearing and violence)  
**Pairing:** Dean/Castiel pre-slash  
**Summary:** Every time there's a flash of lightning, Dean gets a glimpse of Castiel's wings.

**Notes:** This was written for Entangled_Now as part of my "Prompt-Me" meme on my LJ. She asked and now she's received. :D ThisFishFlies was kind enough to make me some lovely manip artwork (_ [slash] yhkl7z6 — __Take away the spaces.) _for it (since I was bugging her).

I know the way I leave off is a little abrupt, but I'll most probably end up making a sequel to this fic! I would finish it now... but my brain died and isn't coming up with anything right now. ;_; Sorry! D:

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The first time Dean notices, he's drunk and he's sure it's just his imagination fucking with him. Why else would he see them? There's no need for Castiel to show off his wings — there's nothing to prove. Dean already knows Castiel's an angel beyond a shadow of a doubt. Sam would probably say that it's a 'manifestation of his unconscious' or some psycho-babble. Whatever. Dean's drunk and sometimes, when you're drunk, you hallucinate. End of story.

There's a clap of thunder, a flash of lightning. Dean glances over at Castiel in time to see his stoic face light up and two massive shadows unfurl from his back. They're wings, he realizes belatedly, his mind sluggish due to the large quantities of alcohol he'd consumed earlier that night.

Dean takes a moment to collect himself and smirks at Castiel. He leans forward as if to reveal something important and slurs out some nonsense about size counting and _real_ men. The confused, almost perplexed expression on Castiel's face is _hilarious_ to Dean. He laughs obnoxiously, slaps his knee, and promptly passes out. The next morning, Dean's more concerned with the killer hang-over from Hell and Sam purposely making smelly food to think about it.

It's a dark and stormy night when Dean figures it out. He and Sam are in the middle of a hunt, their asses having been collectively handed to them.

Dean shoots his last silver bullet into the skull of a werewolf that's lunged at Sam. It drops in midair and hits the ground with an unnatural _thud_. Dean leans over to catch his breath, clutching the cracked ribs on his right side as he pants. His eyes dart around, searching frantically for the last werewolf in the pack.

Sam and Dean had arrived in Avery, California two days earlier and found the small town infested with a pack of starving werewolves. The bizarre thing was that the werewolves seemed stuck in their bestial forms, unable to become human again in the morning. Strange deaths had been reported for the past week, all occurring at all hours the day. Dean could only assume it was all a side-effect of the Apocalypse.

He doesn't notice the werewolf creeping up behind him until it's too late. A deep growl reverberates through Dean's body and he whirls around, lifting his gun to the monster's forehead and pulling the trigger. Nothing happens, of course. There's no ammo left. Drool dribbles out of the corner of the creature's mouth and pools on the ground as it advances on him.

The breath stills in Dean's lungs and his heart pounds wildly in his chest. Vaguely, Dean hears Sam cry out in alarm and sees panicked movement from the corner of his eye. Bracing himself for impact, Dean fully expects a pair of razor sharp claws to embed themselves into his chest and gut him alive.

A moment passes, two, and nothing happens.

Dean opens his eyes to find Castiel poised just behind the werewolf, one arm outstretched and his palm open. There's a look of intense concentration on the angel's face, but his eyes are locked on Dean. Unable to look away, Dean watches as lightning strikes through the sky and two huge wings quiver in the shadows. They draw themselves in tight, taut and trembling, before opening impossibly wide and fluttering in the breeze. Dean's transfixed, awe welling up inside him as he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can actually feel the gust of wind the flapping wings produce.

In the blink of an eye, the moment's gone and everything's over. With a flick of his wrist, a bright light emanates from the palm of Castiel's hand and engulfs the werewolf. Seconds tick by before the creature crumbles and disintegrates into ash at Castiel's feet.

Dean stares at Castiel, mouth open and his eyes wide. It's moments like this that remind him that Cas — that _Castiel_ is an _angel_. That he has the power to destroy Sam and himself in the blink of an eye and there would be nothing he could do about it. Nothing. Castiel lowers his arm and Dean takes the moment to shake himself from his stupor.

Dean glances over at Sam and finds him gaping at Castiel, his eyes wet and his expression one of reverence. His first thought is: _'Pansy'_ before it occurs to Dean that this is the _first_ time Sam's ever seen an angel's wings and since he's the religious one in the family, it's probably a big thing for him. With a put-upon sigh, Dean bites back the acidic comment bubbling up inside of him and turns away to let Sam have his moment.

"Nice timing, Cas," Dean manages, clearing his throat and dusting himself off. It's a futile effort considering that he's covered in blood, ash, and mud.

Castiel bows his head and says, "Thank you." He glances at Sam and runs his eyes over his bedraggled form, assessing for injuries. When he finds none, he gives Sam a small nod of acknowledgment before turning back to Dean. The intensity in Castiel's eyes causes a rush of heat to course through Dean and he suppresses a shiver.

Dean opens his mouth to say something, but he's interrupted by the dull rumbling of thunder and a jolt of lightning. In the brief flash of light, Dean notices that Castiel's wings have moved since he'd last seen them. They've shifted upward and formed a makeshift umbrella over Castiel's head, protecting him from the rain that's pelting down on them. Wait, rain? Dean looks up at the sky and is a little shocked to realize that it's _pouring_ outside and he's soaked to the bone, shivering almost violently.

"C-Cas..." Dean says, his teeth chattering as heat immediately seems to dissipate from his body upon realization. He takes a step forward, intent on saying something, anything, he's not even sure what yet, when Castiel presses two fingers to his forehead and angel whammies him.

"Rest, Dean," Castiel says before everything turns white. Dean dreams of feathers, lightning, and sex. When he wakes, Dean's laying in his hotel room with Sam snoring in the background. This time he can't stop thinking about it.


End file.
